Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know | For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid, this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you!O, my dear mother, do I see you living? Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon:-Good Tom Drum, [To PAROLLES.] lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank thee; wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. King. Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow:- dower: Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.- Servants to Petruchio. GRUMIO, CURTIS, CHARACTERS IN THE INDUCTION To the original Play of The Taming of a Shrew, entered on the Stationers' books in 1594, and printed in quarto, in 1607. A Lord, &c. SLY. A Tapster. Page, Players, Huntsmen, &c PERSONS REPRESENTED. ALPHONSUS, a merchant of Athens. JEROBEL, Duke of Cestus. AURELIUS, his Son,Suitors to the Daughters FERANDO, POLIDOR, S of Alphonsus. VALERIA, Servant to Aurelius. SANDER, Servant to Ferando. PEDANT, an old fellow set up to personate PHYLOTUS, a Merchant who personates the Vincentio. Duke. SCENE, Sometimes in Padua; and sometimes SCENE, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's in Petruchio's House in the Country. Country House. INDUCTION. SCENE I.-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Enter HOSTESS and SLY. Sly. I'll pheese* you, in faith. Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue! Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues: Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; † let the world slide: Sessa! Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy-Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough. [Exit. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly. [Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants. Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd,t 1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my He cried upon it at the merest loss, [lord; And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: Trust me, I take him for the better dog. Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. But sup them well, and look unto them all; To-morrow I intend to hunt again. 1 Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd with ale, he lies! This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine. [image! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. my hounds: What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, A most delicious banquet by his bed, And brave attendants near him when he wakes, Would not the beggar then forget himself? 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jest:- tures: Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters, And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: Procure me music ready when he wakes, Some one be ready with a costly suit, 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our part, As he shall think, by our true diligence, And each one to his office, when he wakes.- Well, you are come to me in happy time; Were he the veriest antick in the world. Lord. Go, sirrab, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords. [Exeunt SERVANT and PLAYERS. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, [To a SERVANT. And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, And call him-madam, do him obeisance,- Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, kisses, And with declining head into his bosom, [Exit SERVANT. laughter, When they do homage to this simple peasant. honour, nor lordship. I never drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man, of such descent, Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath; by birth a pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught: Here's 1 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. And twenty caged nightingales do sing: soar Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight [breath, Adonis, painted by a running brook: [lord: 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; And yet she is inferior to none. * Distracted. Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed; And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? [SERVANTS present an ewer, basin, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream: Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept. Sly. These fifteen years, by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time? Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd on- Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well:-What must I call her? Lord. Madam. Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies. Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, and slept Above some fifteen year and more. Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me; Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. Sly. "Tis much ; her alone. -Servants leave me and Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you, To pardon me yet for a night or two; Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry | We could at once put us in readiness; so long. But I would be loath to fall into my And take a lodging, fit to entertain dreams again; I will therefore tarry, in despite Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget. of the flesh and the blood. But stay awhile: What company is this; Enter a SERVANT. amendment, Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town. Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand aside. Are come to play a pleasant comedy, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy, life. Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a commonty, a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick? Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. Sly. What, household stuff? Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, ACT I. SCENE 1.-Padua.-A public Place. Luc. Tranio, since-for the great desire I had Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence, Tra. Mi perdonate, gentle master mine, Glad that you thus continue your resolve, Bap. Gentlemen, impórtune me no further, Gre. To cart her rather: She's too rough for To make a stale of me amongst these mates? Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. Kath. I'faith, Sir, you shall never need to I wis, it is not half way to her heart: [fear; But, if it were, doubt not her care should be To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool, And paint your face, and use you like a fool. Hor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us! Gre. And me too, good Lord! Tru. Hush, master! here is some good pas- That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward Tra. Well said, master: mum! and gaze your fill. Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good Put finger in the eye,-an she knew why. Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent.- va speak. On them to look, and practise by myself. Gre. Why, will you mews her up, And make her bear the penance of her tongue? [Exil, Pet. Knowing, learned. |